Crazy
by Ronnie
Summary: I can feel it, my sanity slipping away from me, dropping away like water through a broken glass.


**Crazy**

OK I admit it. I used Wheel of Times ideas in this fic! I can't HELP it! I am OBSESSED with those books! lol There are similar ideas in this fic and it is intended, so don't think I'm stealing Robert Jordan ( *bows and worships that man* )'s ideas. I'm not. And yes, I put Rand in the story. I couldn't HELP it. Yes, he is the man with the red hair and grey eyes in the drawing. I adore muh Lows so I had to put him in there. Oh my, did I call him Lows? ANYWAY.. please review. I'd like to know what you think of my sucky ficlet.

Harry James Potter.

That's me.   
  
Yeah, THE Harry Potter. The one who defeated Voldemort. Twice. The one who is considered to be the saver of the free Magical world. Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Seeker for the Bath Eagles. Auror. 

I'm all of those things and I'm none of them. 

I'm so many things and sometimes it's just... too much, you know? I'm going crazy. I know it, deep down inside. I can feel it, my sanity slipping away from me, dropping away like water through a broken glass. It was expected, I know. One can't deal with such Power as I posses without snapping. It's bound to happen, one day or another. It happened before. 

What Power that I posses? You're probably wondering what the hell I'm on about. Well, it really is complicated but I'll try to make it simple for you. 

The power of of a Magical person is decided by the amount of magic that he or she have in their blood. How much of it is Magical and how much isn't. The normal every day person's blood contains 60% of Magic. The other 40% is just regular blood, like all Muggles have. My blood contains 100% of Magic. I have no... regular blood in my body. 

Shocking, isn't it? I know, believe me. I couldn't grasp it, at first. I wouldn't believe it. I couldn't. " You're lying! " , I screamed at Dumbledore when he told me, storming out of his office. I refused to see the truth. And when I did, I considered myself a freak, something unnatural that shouldn't be around normal people. But I learned to live with it. I learned to live with the fact that I can wave a hand and something will explode. I can create magic with a mere thought. I guess you could say I'm a fucking superhero. Sounds surreal, right? I promise you, it's real. It's my reality. I have to live with it every day, knowing that I can blast away someone if I don't watch my temper. See, pure magical people can be very dangerous. There were only five known in the past three hundred years. Three of them have gone insane. One day, they just went crazy and... broke. I've seen drawings. 

In one of them, an old one from mid 17th century, a water pain piece, amazingly beautiful, a man is shown standing in the middle of a pub, wearing a long Medieval style cloak. His hands are clutching at his head, an expression of pure agony on his face as people all around him with wide eyes. His red hair is somewhat shining, his grey eyes staring ahead, seemingly blind. Light is shining from within his body. From the tip of his fingers, from his mouth, his nose, his head. Magical light. Unlike any other magical drawing or picture, that picture doesn't move. It is frozen. The man will agonize forever as his pain carries on. 

I don't want to end up like that. I don't want to break. 

And I'm scared. I'm so scared I can't sleep at night. I just sit on my bed and watch the stars and the moon and the sky, trying not to think about the fact that it could be the last time I would ever see them. I go to bed every night, knowing that I might die the next morning. Snap, break, finally go crazy. 

I'm not allowed to be scared, though. 

I'm Harry Potter, after all. 

I saved them, and I can't be scared. I'm a hero, and I have no fear. Death won't catch me, mortality doesn't apply when it comes to me. I hear them talking. I hear them telling their children the story of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. The Boy Who Defeated Voldemort. I can't live up to their expectations. It's impossible. I don't even remember anything from that night. Just, pain. Lots of pain. Hot, white waves of screams and agony, searing through my body as I did my best to push him off, away. I screamed at him, telling him I will not serve him. I will not walk in the Dark and in his Shadow. " I see through your lies! " I screamed at him, throwing my arms out and concentrating, aiming every bit of my power towards him. The red lighting bolt hit him right in his chest and he fell to the ground. I didn't have to check to know that he was dead. A moon shaped scar was imprinted on his cheek. A scar that I gave him. I remember raising my hand up to rub my own scar, the lighting bolt shaped line burning red against my pale skin. I can still feel the bitter taste in my mouth. I threw up beside his body. 

The battle field was a horrible sight. Men were lying all over the big field where we fought, dead. Some were still writhing with pain, dying slowly, agony taking over their whole world until it turned black. I tried helping them. I tired and I tried and I felt so helpless, standing there with this stupid power, useless, not able to save the men who came after ME to fight that damn war. I was crouched over a body when the Aurors came. I was trying so hard to help the man, relieve his pain if not save him. He was talking to me while I rubbed my hands onto his chest, trying with all my might to heal him. I prayed to God to give me strength, to enlighten me... but he died. He died, asking me to take care of his wife and two children. I promised him I will. I swore. 

Vanessa, his wife, Janine and Adrienne, his daughters, all live in my guest house now. Their house was lost in the big Attack and they needed a place to stay. I've come to think about them as my own family. 

Family. When I was younger, I pined for a family. I longed for it, seeking some closeness to a person, someone who will be a part of me. That's why I loved going to the Weasly's. Mrs. Weasly treated me like one of her own sons, and they all treated me like family. And Hermione's parents did, too. I had family but not really... Sometimes, I dreamt my parents were alive. I remember one dream so vividly that it feels like I lived it. 

My mom was standing next to a kitchen sink, looking exactly like she looks in the picture that I have from my their wedding, not a day older, washing the dishes. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a baby blue shirt. Her hair was red, flame red, and tied back in a pony tail. My dad was sitting at the table, reading the paper. And then, I walked into the kitchen and smiled at them. I was 17. A Head Boy badge was shining on my chest and my mom looked at me proudly. I felt my heart soaring, even through the dream. Even now. 

But when I woke up, they were gone, and I was left with memories of people I didn't really know. They died when I was so young. So young.

I remember telling Ron and Herm about my... Powers. Ron was scared, as he should have been. We all heard the stories about the pure Magical blooded men who went crazy and killed thousands. They always took many with them when they died. Herm, Herm was interested, bless her soul. She was interested and compassionate and caring and everything I expected her to be. She walked to me and placed a hand on my arm, looking deeply into my eyes. Her brows crinkled as she searched for something in my eyes. At length, she smiled and detached her gaze from mine. " You're not going to go crazy on us, Harry James Potter. We won't allow it. " I was so... happy. I knew I could trust my friends. I always could. 

But I AM going crazy. I know it. I can feel it. My sanity is slowly leaving me and one day, one day I will hurt everyone I love and care about. I will snap and take them all with me. I'm dangerous, but they don't understand that. " I won't let you break, " Herm keeps saying, a determined look in her eyes, her mouth set. I know not to mess with Herm when she's like that, so I always agree. Ron just smiles a lot and cracks a lot of jokes. It's his way of cheering me up and I love him for that. 

I just... I hate this Power. I hate it. 

I'm scared. Scared of myself. 


End file.
